One of these Nights
by Natchez
Summary: Sequel to "After the Slap." Moray is determined to get Denise back. What lengths will he go to?


**A/N:** Sequel to "After the Slap." I'm not sure if I'm going to continue this or not, but I do hope you enjoy it. Rated M to be safe - there is goodness here. Lots of it.

_Disclaimer: I do not own or operate "The Paradise."_

* * *

Denise Lovett brushed by John Moray, barely acknowledging him. She hadn't said more than, "Good morning, Mr. Moray" to him in two weeks. Moray was miserable. He had written notes of apology, covered the Ladieswear Department in flowers… in short, he had done everything he could think of to make amends to her for his utter insensitivity.

Even Dudley was at a loss. "I don't know, John," he said. "Denise apparently is not of a mind to kiss and make up just now."

"No doubt." He looked darkly at his friend. "Then there's but one thing to do, that I can see."

"What's that?" Dudley asked.

Moray shook his head. "I'm not going to say. But this will either do the job, or I've lost her forever."

"Good luck, then."

"Thank you. I'll need it."

* * *

It had been a long day. Denise unlocked her door and went into her rooms. They were dark. She could have sworn she had left a lamp lit. Perhaps it was low on oil. No matter. She fumbled in the drawer for a match and struck it. She lit the lamp on the table, then went to her bedroom. She started to light the lamp on the side table, when a familiar hand stayed hers.

"Don't, Denise," John said.

She whirled. She couldn't see him clearly in the darkness. "John!" she said in an outraged whisper, fearful the girls across the hall would hear. "What on earth are you doing in my rooms? How did you get in?"

"You wouldn't come to me. I decided I had to come to you. I used to own this place, remember? I know how to unlock the doors."

"Like a common footpad," Denise said.

"Rather like that, yes," he replied quietly.

"Speak your piece and leave, then, if you would be so kind."

Moray couldn't see her face, but knew her expression was stony. He could hear it. "Nothing has ever been easy for us, Denise. Nothing has gone as I so hoped it would. But the first moment I saw you in The Paradise, I knew I could love no other woman. I no longer wanted any other woman except you. I've been a fool and I'm more sorry than you can know."

"Have you been drinking?" came her tart rejoinder.

"Just a bit of brandy to steady my nerves. I am very much in my right mind, though. I love you, Denise. I love your beauty and your strength and your fire." He reached out a hand, found her face and brought his favorite tendril of hair out of its place.

Denise drew a ragged breath. Her blood heated when John touched her. She couldn't help it. She was so lost in his presence. "I love you, John, but I cannot be considered your property or your chattel. I will not."

"You are not. You are my light and my love. I will never speak so to you again. I can only plead abject ignorance. Please, Denise, I so want to love you." His voice sounded desperate and Denise could feel herself wavering.

"John, I am not willing to be your little doll."

"And you are not. You are a gorgeous, warm, flesh and blood woman." He took her hand and gently massaged it. "Just the touch of your hand fires my senses. Here, feel what you do to me." He pressed her hand over his heart and held it against her shock and dismay, for he was bare-chested.

"What has possessed you to come into my room, naked and acting so?" Denise was indeed shocked, but something about John's smooth skin under her fingers was intoxicating.

"Only half-naked," he replied, his voice teasing. "I do have my trousers on." He pulled her to him and kissed her fiercely. "But those can come off, too."

"No! You must stop this!" She struggled until she felt John's mouth at her jawline. Why did his kisses leave her undone?

"Stop what, my lovely Denise? Stop kissing your fragrant, white skin?" He moved to her ears and whispered, "Stop nibbling your delectable ears?" His breath was hot, his voice raspy with wanting. "Stop taking the sweetness of your mouth? It's the most sensuous of confections and I must taste it." He kissed her again, his tongue gently asking for entrance, which she gave, not knowing what else to do. As the tip of his tongue touched hers, she started and felt as though she would faint. His arms tightened around her and she put her hands on his naked back, glorying in the feel of his olive skin. She could smell bay rum and the soap he used. Heat flooded her. She didn't know where she was, nor did she care. She was in John's arms and he was kissing her like tomorrow would never come.

"There is something quite arousing in feeling all that silk brocade against my skin," he said against her mouth. Denise blushed crimson, glad he could not see her in the darkness. "But it has to go. I must feel you, Denise." Before she could protest, John was unbuttoning her basque with deft fingers and she remembered he knew how to undress a woman. Her breath caught as his fingers brushed against her corset cover, then went to the tops of her breasts where they swelled over the top of her corset. Her whimper was involuntary, but John was thrilled to hear it. He wanted Denise to want this. His mouth trailed down her neck to the valley between her breasts and she drew in a half-articulated breath as his tongue dipped between them.

John was doing his best to keep a hammerlock on his control, but Denise's body would be his undoing. He reached behind her to loosen her corset. With one hand, he unlaced it, holding her jaw with the other and plundering her mouth again. Finally, he released the garment and it fell away, and for the first time, he felt her yielding softness. Oh, this was worth everything.

Denise was far past thought. She was drowning in passion, hanging on to John for dear life, trusting him to lead her through the waters. She felt his hands in her hair, finding her carefully placed hairpins and bringing her hair down in a tumble around her shoulders. His hands went to her waist and she started when his fingers began undoing the tapes of her skirt and petticoats. Then they hit the floor.

"John, we cannot. What if I find myself – with child?" Her voice was frightened, but John soothed her with a deep chuckle that made her heart race again.

"Denise, my love. At the risk of sounding rather like a cad, I am a widower and a man who has traveled to Paris and Venice. I can take care of your every need and I will most certainly leave your maidenhead intact." _Because I want it for myself on our wedding night,_ he thought.

"If we do this, I will be no more than a street tramp to you. I was raised a lady!"

"You were indeed. And you are still a lady. My sweetheart, I fully intend to marry you. I will never forsake you. Ever. I love you."

"I love you too, John," Denise answered.

"Then trust me to take care of you."

"I do, John."

"Good enough, then. Light the lamp, sweetheart."

Denise was shocked again. "Why ever for?"

He laughed. "So I can see you. And so you can see me."

"Y-you are incorrigible. Wicked. That's what," she replied.

"I have not even begun to be wicked," he said, a smile in his voice, as Denise lit the lamp with shaky fingers. She turned to see John and almost took leave of her senses right then. His body was lean, muscled. She had not been so close to an unclothed male since her brothers lived at home. There was something about seeing him, with his trousers unbuttoned at the waist, his hair tousled where she had run her fingers through it. She couldn't put a name to what it did to her, but she could feel fire licking through her veins.

"You are exquisite, my love," he said. "Sit," he gestured to the bed. She did and he approached her, appreciating the lines of her body, her chemise and drawers – pale pink silk trimmed in lace. He knelt before her and removed her black leather boots, then rolled her stockings down her legs.

Denise was assaulted by so many sensations, she couldn't keep track of them all. His fingers on her skin, his gaze appreciative as it roamed her body – it all served to completely muddle her senses. Her eyes widened as John unbuttoned his trousers and stepped out of them. He wore the short drawers most men did in spring, but his arousal was evident through the fabric.

"Now comes the real fun," he said, teasing. He sat next to her and kissed her, then plucked her chemise over her head. "Stand up," he said. She complied and John loosened the tapes on her drawers and slid them down over her hips. He threw back the counterpane on her bed and pushed her to lie down. He gazed at her and Denise could feel her entire body suffused with scarlet. John drew in a breath. "Sweetheart, your beauty could tempt an angel to sin." He lay next to her and unfastened his own drawers and pitched them to the floor. Denise looked at the ceiling in confusion mixed with wanting.

"Good heavens, love. Look at me," he said. "There's nothing here that wasn't always here."

"I'm not so sure of that," she quaked, sending him into gales of laughter.

"Oh, my sweetheart. You are a continual delight to me." He turned on his side toward her. "Perhaps I have my trousers tailored generously just on your account."

"OH!" Denise exclaimed, blushing again.

"It is such great fun to tease you," he said, kissing her again. Then, he rolled on top of her, his elbows taking his weight, but his body all along hers.

Denise could hardly breathe. The feel of John's body covering hers and his skin on her skin was more than overwhelming.

John understood what she was feeling and he planted tiny kisses on her neck, allowing her to get used to the idea of being naked with him. Slowly, he moved down and put a gentle hand on her breast. She gasped.

"Quietly, sweetheart. These walls are somewhat thin," he said, then kissed the skin on her breast, and finally covered the tip with his mouth. Denise could hardly contain her cries, but managed and settled for breathing heavily. He turned his attention to her other breast, more than pleased with her reactions. She was not frigid, for certain. In fact, she was something of a wanton, which also pleased him.

John spent a long while kissing her breasts, then down the planes of her flat stomach, doing his best to control himself and not plunge into her heat. He rolled off her and said, "Touch me, sweetheart. Give me release." At the question on her face, he took her hand and brought it to his hardness. "I will guide you." He showed her how to please him in that way and when he found his release, he kissed her again. "A moment," he said. He went to the washstand and cleaned himself, giving Denise a view of his backside. Her eyes widened again. Surely, it was wicked to admire that part of a man!

John returned to the bed and lay down again. Without preamble, he began kissing her again and this time, he drifted his fingers down her belly, to her thighs. Denise parted her legs from instinct. "That's right," he whispered. "Your part is to enjoy now." He touched the folds between her legs ever so tenderly, finally finding the moisture there, and causing her to nearly come off the bed. "Easy now," he murmured. "There is more." He continued touching her, then covered a breast with her mouth.

"Please, my love, don't stop."

"Not if all the Huns in Europe were bearing down on us," he chuckled softly.

As he continued touching her, Denise knew there was some goal on the horizon, some crisis point that her body was building toward. As John tenderly worried the little button there, she could feel something gathering in her back, swirling around her hips, and moving up her abdomen. He continued touching her and the wave hit. She gasped for air and writhed under his expert fingers as fireworks went off in her brain.

John pulled her still-shuddering body close to his. "Oh, my sweetheart. I would beg in the streets to come home to this every night. This night has been – everything. I love you, my angel."

"I love you, John. But you must think me so – brazen."

He grinned at her. "Indeed you are a brazen minx, but I would not have you any other way. I do not desire women with ice in their veins."

She ducked her head. "Very well. But you must NOT breathe a word of this to anyone!"

"My dear, I would never taint your good name and reputation so. These rooms, or mine, are our own enclave – our respite from the world – and nothing from the outside seeps in, nor does what we share here leave here."

"All right."

He smiled. "Now you can blow out the lamp and I'll wager we will both sleep very well this night."

She did and John snuggled her body to mold to his. "Remember, when we are married, this will be a nightly event. I have no interest in the fashion of separate bedrooms, do you?"

"None, sweetheart," Denise replied.

"Then I will kiss you goodnight and bid you sweet dreams. I love you, Denise."

"I love you too, John. So much." She dropped her head to his chest and was asleep almost at once.

John stayed awake a few moments longer, mostly thanking every heavenly power that he had Denise back. He fell into deep sleep.


End file.
